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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637105">Sunlit Kitchen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpfangrl/pseuds/hpfangrl'>hpfangrl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disgustingly fluffy, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Kidfic, M/M, Modern AU, Who am I, i usually can only write angst, this is so domestic it hurts guys, what is this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:34:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpfangrl/pseuds/hpfangrl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Happy Anniversary, Love.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunlit Kitchen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight streamed through the gaps between the blinds. The hissing sounds of what smelled like crepés being made filtered in from the kitchen, as well as some soft humming along to the radio. </p>
<p>Combeferre turned left to grab his glasses off the nightstand, stretching as he did so. A small, sleepy noise from his right made him turn once more, and his face melted into a gentle smile as he took in the small figure curled into a fetal position in the middle of the bed. </p>
<p>“Up, Sacha!” He whispered in the boy’s ear, “Your Papa is making crepés!” His attempts were met with some groaning as the 4-yr-old merely curled tighter in upon himself. “Come on, you goof. I bought some fresh strawberries...” This earned the crack of an eye, but no other reaction. </p>
<p>Combeferre gave a dramatic sigh, as if resigned that there was no way to tempt his son out of bed. “You know, there’s a dreadful disease that’s been making the rounds at the hospital. Nearly incurable,” the other eye peeped open, “except for those who eat crepés with strawberries.”<br/>Sacha yawned, giving in and rubbing at his eyes. </p>
<p>“What’s the disease called?” His sleepy voice made his father’s heart swell. Combeferre’s face then took on a mock-grave expression.</p>
<p>“I do believe the disease is called tickle-itis!” He exclaimed, diving forward to scrabble at his son’s sides as the child sputtered and laughed, kicking with his feet. He scooped Sacha up and carried him above his head, roaring like Godzilla. He carried him into the kitchen, stomping all the while and making funny faces. </p>
<p>Courfeyrac stood at the countertop, wearing a Star Wars themed apron (Kiss the Wookie!) and smiling fondly at his husband and child. </p>
<p>“Did I hear that somebody’s caught a case of tickle-itis? Well Sacha, the good Doctor Combeferre, has told me that disease is nearly incurable. How lucky it is that we happen to have the cure right here!” He grabbed a plate from the stack waiting, and arranged a crepe with strawberries and whipped cream. He made sure the final product was assembled in a way that resembled a smiley face. “There we go, eat that up and you’ll be good as new.”</p>
<p>Combeferre set his son down in his counter chair, then walked over to his husband, hugging him from the side as he continued making breakfast. “Enjolras and Grantaire are coming over in a little while with Bea to pick him up. I’ve already packed his Epi-Pen and inhaler,” continued Courfeyrac in a dialogue meant just for his husband. “Happy Anniversary, love.” Combeferre waited until the griddle was off, then spun Courfeyrac around to face him.</p>
<p>“I love you so much,” he said, bringing their foreheads together. “I...” he paused to plant a brief kiss on his husband’s lips, “...adore you.” He gave a small huff of laughter. “I never thought... I never thought someone like me could have this... could have such a wonderful, perfect... wonderful life!” They smiled and stared into each other’s eyes, until the radio music cut out to be replaced by the station host’s voice. Combeferre pulled away to turn the radio set off, while Courfeyrac walked over to his son, who had already managed to get strawberry juice in his hair and whipped cream up his nose. Combeferre turned around, and watched as his husband teased his son, with sunlight trickling in through the windows. He smiled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the most domestic thing i’ve ever written. what is this. who am i. my tumblr is @ romeomahbromeo so hmu if you want more!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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